


A deal with the devil

by ShadowSelene (Shadowdianne)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Don't say I didn't warn you, F/F, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:07:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26794114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowdianne/pseuds/ShadowSelene
Summary: Prompt asked by Naralanis: Boat ride from Azkaban -- both Narcissa and Hermione were there (the reasons are up to you) and share a Tense ride back. Bring on the angst!! (or don't! Maybe you've hit your head and become The Master of Fluff, who knows!)
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Narcissa Black Malfoy
Comments: 3
Kudos: 43





	A deal with the devil

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Naralanis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naralanis/gifts).



> I, obviously, didn't hit my head before writing this. Sorry not sorry xD  
> [Again, pre-relationship, if the tags weren't enough of a warning. Trolls be warned]

The soggy wood beneath her fingers gave up a fraction of an inch as Hermione grasped into it, eyes lost into the slowly disappearing Azkaban tower, the grey waters lapping mercilessly against the rocking boat that slowly made its way to shore. It didn’t matter how hard or long she stared at her back, however, as she could feel the stormy eyes that had been following her every move ever since she had looked at the enchanted boat with her feet firmly planted into the pebble-covered road that made its sinuous way towards the main entrance of the prison.

She had known what she had agreed to when she had offered up her name when rumors about Narcissa Black being permitted to visit her sister had spread all through the Ministry. Yet, when she had asked for the permit, pulling up the rank her status as one of the Golden Trio gave her, she had felt just as dirty as she now felt the back of her throat to be: as if something had gotten stuck there, a non-said spell, an almost swallowed curse. And now, as the blonde witch kept on looking at her, beyond the sea waters, beyond the invisible set of magical wards they kept on slowly trespassing as they moved away from Azkaban, she felt as if about to implode.

“You don’t need to keep on gloating.”

Narcissa’s voice reached her beyond the sound of the waves as they kept on moving: two witches aboard the only magical way left to reach and return from the dark island. She sounded defeated, tired, and the younger witch pursed her lips at the words, knowing there was very little she could say in order to defend herself. It was, after all, what could be perceived as what she was doing: staring, gloating.

She always had found difficult keeping her mouth shut, however. And knowing she already was halfway into a hopeless discussion couldn’t really make her do it.

“I wasn’t.”

She turned towards the prow of the boat, glancing at Narcissa fully for the first time since they had left the deepest caverns that took their root well beneath ground level back at Azkaban: the humidity of the air visible on the dampened rocky walls. The blonde looked paler than usual, grey tint around her usual ice-like eyes. Back straight, however, hands neatly folded on her lap, the previous Malfoy matriarch still looked very much the nobility-holding title witch she had once been.

A shadow of something close to a sneer colored the rictus on her lips, though, and Hermione couldn’t do anything but roll her shoulders, knowing the conversation they were about to have was long overdue. After all, she had expected to have it such when they first had embarked in that very same boat a few hours prior; with the blindness the still-yet-to-have met up brought with it.

But Narcissa had remained silent then, eyes piercing the horizon rather than Hermione and a part of the brunette had been happy for it. Relieved. It seemed, however, that her luck had run out.

“Don’t even try, I know you insisted on coming, Miss Granger.”

The words didn’t quite hurt as much as the use of her surname. The brunette could remember how their last lengthy conversation had ended: with them waiting, surrounding by press, witches, wizards, mages, as the Lestrange trial started beyond the Wizengamot’s closed doors. She had made a promise, after all. A deal with the devil.

She could remember Narcissa’s eyes then, blue, like gems, as she had tried to feign she wasn’t about to cry with every bit of shame and guilt making them glow with unshed magic. She could remember the way the older witch had broken, like glass against stone, the way she had used her name as she had uttered how she knew it was far too much to ask, for her, who had suffered so much back at Malfoy Manor, for, at least, the ability to be able to visit the dark-haired woman whose fate was already sealed.

And yet, when the resolution had been shared, despite her promise of trying, Hermione had eyed Harry, had eyed Ron, and she had walked away. She hadn’t felt remorse from her decision, but she had seen the eyes, the glances, the magic, the promise taken ahold inside her chest.

Lowering her eyes, she looked back to Narcissa’s fingers, to the way they were pressed together, interlocked, knuckles whiter, magic dribbling through.

“I know you had been insisting on the visit. I wanted…”

She halted there, not knowing what exactly she was supposed to say. She had asked for her being the witch assigned to the task out of a sense of duty she couldn’t quite understand after all. And so, not even explain.

Ron had gurgled out curses when she had shared what Narcissa had asked out of her, with Harry looking at her with that mix of curious and doubtful glimmering its way through his irises. She ought to have felt much more incensed, she had told to herself: the gall the blonde witch possessed of even asking maybe too much for her. Yet, she hadn’t quite reacted to the words, numbness slowly eating her insides while she merely nodded, knowing beforehand she couldn’t really give a straight answer of what she could do.

War wasn’t always about battlefields and dates that became important once they passed: it was the remains what mattered and, by the time of the trials, there were far too much fragmented pieces of her still being rebuilt for her to have been capable of answering the tiniest fraction of a question.

She also knew that Narcissa, deep down, had understood her hesitation. Yet, expecting a logical answer from either of them when Bellatrix was involved was too much on itself. And so, she let her tongue fell flat, firmly between her teeth as she tried to find a way of adding to an already rotten layer of words.

_I was concerned._

That was probably the best type of answer, but it implied much more, and Hermione glanced at the foam gathered against the external walls of the boat as the tension kept on mounting: Narcissa’s eyes following her once again. She had, indeed, been concerned. About what could potentially happen to Narcissa, to Bellatrix, to the reunion that had been bound to be difficult from the start.

Because, as they had quickly confirmed, Narcissa’s own necessity of checking that her sister was alright despite her situation, her condemnation, the older Black sister didn’t feel the same. Her screams had followed them both out of the caverns, the expletives as bad as -and even probably worse than- the ones a younger Hermione had once heard in the Black mansion, when she had been little more than a teen and there still had been adults padding the way to war.

She feared what any other mage, any other wizard or witch, would have done with an obviously devastated Narcissa whose divorce had already been long and extraneous enough.

Yet, concern and pity hold the same image when reflected into the Black’s mirror and the brunette knew that it wouldn’t be accepted so she sighed, deeply, while glancing up once more, the shadow of something close to land beginning to extend at Narcissa’s back.

“You had the privilege of a visit. You deserved it.”

It wasn’t much of an explanation and she tensed as Narcissa tilted her head, eyes as piercing as before but a glow of rendition on them. The grey around them had been red before stepping into the boat, the very much mortal and human wardens around the island silently watching as they retrieved their wands from where they had needed to leave them: open mockery and hate on their postures. Hermione knew she should never mention that detail: not in her report, not to anyone else.

Looking away from the brunette for the first time, Narcissa crossed one leg over the other while remaining as upright and as unbothered by the rocky waters as before, pushing the question inside Hermione’s subconscious if she had gotten her clothes magicked in some way.

Ironing lines that weren’t truly there, picking up lint that was indeed invisible, the Black sister sighed, lips pouting for a moment, before she took into Hermione’s form once again.

“And I suppose you are expecting some grateful words due to it.”

The younger witch shook her head. She didn’t deserve them: she had been duplicitous and they both knew it, a way of both shooting the guilt she felt and the words they both had shared during the trials. She wasn’t proud of her decision, but she knew there were worse actions to take.

“But I will ask on being your assigned witch if you ever wish to come back. The permit let you such, if you wished it so.”

And, despite her words, Bellatrix hadn’t said she didn’t want to see her sister anymore so…

The blonde hummed as the boat rocked and stopped, the small bumping motion against the shore the signal they had reached their final destination with more gates to cross until they were considered to be completely clear. Standing, the older woman stepped outside the boat and looked quizzically at Hermione, following her steps while the scent of salt filled their nostrils, seagulls framing her answer.

“I suppose it’s fair. Hermione.”

And so, she turned, her footsteps leaving prints as light as smoke on the wet sand. Her words, however, heavy.

_Thank you_


End file.
